Songs For Absolution
by londongrammar
Summary: For the Album Drabble challenge on the HPFC forum. Songs about the Black's, the Malfoy's, the Master that ruled them, and their thoughts on love and death.
1. Apocalypse Please

Apocalypse Please

Written for the Album Drabble Challenge by Mystii on the HPFC forum

My album: Absolution by Muse

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. *sigh*

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The Dementors kiss. When it had come to this you knew you were in deep shit. You're life was over.

Lucius Malfoy, you're going to your own personal hell.

Blackness, nothing, emptiness. All gone.

No way out this time. It was clear he'd committed evil and this was his punishment. He'd begged for mercy, but no one showed him any. Not even his wife or child.

He was going to rot away in Azkaban and he couldn't do anything about it.

His happy memories didn't consist of family and friends, but the sounds of terror and death from Mudbloods.

"_How sickening_." he thought.

But did he regret it? Yes? No? Maybe. He decided upon maybe, because that way he wouldn't have to give a straight answer to himself.

When had it all gone so wrong? Was it the day he had become a Death Eater, when the Dark Mark had been burned on his skin, or when his Master had returned. It made his head ache thinking about it.

It was ironic that he'd always inspired fear in people yet now it was he that was scared.

His life would now consist of the blank depths of the night, and the horrors within.

He had never been truly happy. Even as a child, maybe it was because no one had really shown him any love, of course his parents had spoilt him, but that was standard for every Pureblood child. He – of course- hated Mudbloods because they were beneath him and his superior family. But when he saw how happy were, he despised them even more.

The hatred had been etched deep in his mind, and when his Master had offered him the chance to rid the world of such scum, who was he to say no?

This was end of hid damned world, and he wasn't going to fight them any more. It was hopeless.

You're left to the devices of your own mind, Lucius Malfoy, and it's going to drive you mad.

As the Dementor grew closer, he felt nothing but terror and now, after all this time he knew how it felt to suffer. And he screamed.

Finished. Done. Game over.

The end of the world indeed.

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Well, that's one down! I hope you enjoyed, and please review. (And just so you know, I _am _aware that Lucius does actually live, I just made this up so it would fit in with the rest of the story)


	2. Time Is Running Out

Time Is Running Out

**D****isclaimer:** It all belongs to J. K. Rowling.

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For as long as he could remember Regulus Black had wanted to be a Death Eater. The decoration of his room would prove that to anyone. He wanted to serve the Dark Lord Voldemort and prove to him that he was a worthy servant.

Eventually this dream came true, but all too soon it had come crashing down again, showing him that serving such a cruel Master was far more difficult than he had ever imagined.

Regulus was bound by the mark on his arm and the decision he had made when he was a foolish child. There was no way out for him, only death.

Regulus had hoped to bring death to Voldemort, and _maybe_, just _maybe_ it was possible.

He _had _to destroy the Horcrux, that was his only option. Regulus was headed to his doom, and he knew this.

The Dark Lord had always scared Regulus, but he had always respected him, out of the said fear. Until now.

When Kreacher had returned from serving Voldemort and had informed Regulus of what happened in the cave he was disgusted. It would appear that his powerful Dark Lord would do terrible things to achieve his ends, and Regulus couldn't let that happen

As Regulus entered the cave of Voldemort he felt a sense of freedom. Soon, his life would be over. He would no longer have to suffer at the hands of anyone, nor take their life.

Such was an act of Gryffindor bravery, but it also incorporated cunning and slyness, the Slytherin traits his Master adored. It was almost humorously ironic.

Kreacher stood by his side until the end. The most loyal of all companions.

As he drank the Dark Lord's concoction he saw dreadful things; the faces of those he had tortured and killed, their dead bodies. Regulus saw a world ruled by Voldemort, and he saw darkness.

He cried for someone to help him, wishing that they would save him from the pain, but every time he did so Kreacher would reassure him that the ordeal was almost over.

He switched the lockets, and that was that. He remembered ordering Kreacher to leave him and destroy the locket no matter what, but that was all.

The next thing he knew, hands were dragging him into the freezing water, he couldn't breathe, Regulus knew it was the end.

"_For the Chosen One_" he thought, as the water poured into his lungs.

And then, he died.

Regulus Black: The Death Eater that defied his Master. A hidden hero in a world deceived by lies and darkness. May he rest in peace.

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I just felt this song was utterly perfect to express how Regulus felt about Voldemort; The admiration of him in his youth, and then the horror of what he truly was in his final years.

As always, I hope you all enjoyed it, and if you've got time, please review.


	3. Sing For Absolution

Sing For Absolution

**Disclaimer:** It's all J. K. Rowling's. Except the plot, that mine.

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Narcissa Malfoy was a woman of few words, but one thing she felt strongly about was her husbands affiliation with The Dark Lord. Of course, it wasn't as though she were against what he stood for, she merely felt that her darling Lucius should be doing other things than roaming around killing Mudbloods. They would have a son soon, after all.

Although she herself didn't exactly like Muggles, –being raised as a Black, these things were forced upon you at an early age- but ever since Andromeda had run off with that Muggle boy she wondered if they truly were that bad.

She missed her as much as she missed her husband.

As much as she agreed –to an extent- that Muggles were below Pureblood's she hardly felt that they had to be _exterminated_.

"But Cissy," her sister would always say "the world needs to be purged of this scum so that we may live in the Dark Lord's image!"

She could barely remember the last time she had seen Lucius, properly. On the rare occasions that he _did_ come home, it would be in the middle of the night and he would fall into bed without a word.

She missed him kissing her, and talking to her about regular, mundane things. Now everything revolved around 'The Dark Lord's plans'.

All she wanted was for everything to be normal, for her unborn child's sake, yet she knew that was impossible.

Narcissa knew that when this 'Lord' eventually fell, Lucius would be one of the first to suffer the fate of Azkaban, and therefore Narcissa took it upon herself to be the perfect Pureblood wife, so that her husband may be saved.

Narcissa knew that there would be so much evidence stacked against him, but she had to try. She had to save him. For her and her child's sake.

She would never deny the fact that she loved her husband, she just didn't think that that was the right path for him. What had happened to the idealistic boy she had married? A cruel man had taken his place, but she needed to see if she could get that boy back, because then she would be saved.

She would beg from the rooftops if she had to. She need her husband, and deep down he needed her too.

She would sing for them. She would sing for absolution.

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Well, another chapter done, I hope you review even if it's just a simple "good job", I wanna hear what you guys think! :)


	4. Stockholm Syndrome

Stockholm Syndrome 

**Disclaimer:** I still own nothing…

Just so you know, there are mentions of rape in this chapter, so if you don't like that kind of thing, read with caution.

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Rodolphus Lestrange suffered from a severe case of Stockholm Syndrome, it was also a case that he wasn't aware that he had, even if he would never acknowledge a _Mudblood_ disease in the first place.

He suffered from Stockholm Syndrome because of his wife.

It sounds ludicrous, yes, but it's the truth.

No, he wasn't kept as a hostage by her love or any of that bullshit. He was kept a hostage by her insanity.

They could discuss nothing without the Dark Lord being mentioned. She would end up ranting about how truly great he was, and although he would -naturally- agree, he felt that that was the extent of their relationship.

There was always a fire burning in her eyes when she spoke of him. A spark that disappeared all too quickly when she turned her gaze to him.

Rodolphus often wondered if he hated Bellatrix, but would always come to the conclusion that he didn't., he merely tired of their dull and repetitive marriage. Hence the reason he would sometimes take one of the Mudblood women he and his fellow Death Eater's had captured.

He was the pure water that played in the dirt. It was all simply a game.

Of course Bellatrix knew, but she never mentioned it, as per usual she would merely concentrated of one of the tasks their Dark Lord had bestowed upon her.

They were the two most loyal Death Eaters that you could find, and of course that came at a price, but those years in Azkaban had been worth it when their Lord had risen again and let them go about murdering and torturing with even more gusto than before hid disappearance.

The only thing Rodolphus felt towards his wife was loyalty. Not so much in body as in mind. He would keep her safe if necessary (which was a rare thing) and otherwise be the one to calm her if she went _too_ mad.

He thought he owed her that much.

After the Dark Lord had once again fallen along with his wife and friends Rodolphus had been sentenced to suffer the Dementors kiss, and he truthfully hadn't been scared. He had suffered the pain so many times before, that he barely registered the effects of them.

He knew that his mind would be left with nothing, and Rodolphus hated this fact, and tried several times to prevent himself from receiving such a fate, but to no avail.

He would forget who he was along with everybody else. For few remembered a man who sat locked up in Azkaban prison

In death Rodolphus Lestrange went to hell. He had known this would happen, but in no way had he accepted it. He fought those demons as he had fought those in the Second Wizarding War.

He fought alongside his wife, Bellatrix, as he always had.

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I personally am quite fond of this chapter, Rodolphus is the first _really _hardcore Death Eater I've written about apart from Bellatrix, so it was interesting to think about how he would feel and such.


	5. Falling Away Into The Small Print

Falling Away Into The Small Print

**Disclaimer:** I own it all! Oh, uh, I mean. I own nothing…Except the plot. Please don't kill me J.K.!

**A/N:** I used two songs for this chapter, I thought it worked better.

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Azkaban is the worst fear for any witch or wizard. It meant that you have committed a crime so dreadful, that you were going to be left on an island with nothing but a creature of pure evil for comfort.

You are going to be sitting in a dank cell for the rest of you're puny life, trying to remember faces that aren't seemingly non-existent or shrouded in a black hood.

You can't remember them, can you?

It's your own fault you're here. You can't deny that. Perhaps if you'd been a bit smarter or quicker, or more secretive about what you were doing, you wouldn't be here. Or maybe you would. Life is odd like that.

Did you honestly expect get away with it? You can tell me if you did. I promise I won't laugh, not that I can anyway. I'm not employed to laugh.

As far as anyone else is concerned you are the evil of this planet. Murderers, thieves and rule-breakers. What's the difference between you really?

Do you do it for a personal reason, like revenge? Do you do it because someone told you to, or do you just do it for fun?

Apparently you no longer deserve you're happy memories, so they are taken from you. You slip further and further into madness as the weeks turn into months that turn into years. Not that you notice. You're trapped in the cruel memories that are left behind.

You try and sleep the time away, but sleep always evades you because you wake up screaming or crying. Trying to forget those dreaded thoughts that creep into your dreams.

You want death to come to you, but that would be too kind. We have to make sure you're nothing more than a shell of you're former being when that pathetic heart of yours stops beating.

I am not kind and I am not sympathetic. I am a Dementor. I am here to make sure that you do not forget what you have done to merit such a fate. To make sure that every good thought and feeling is sucked out of you're body until there is a point when you are left nothing but the deep, dark horrors of you're mind.

I am a Dementor. Even in death, you will not forget me. I will always be there, waiting for that last happy thought

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Geez. That was quite grim, even for me, but then I suppose it would have to be if it were a Dementor. I hope you didn't find it _too_ depressing and can find it in your hearts to review. You have no idea how happy it makes me. =)


	6. Hysteria

Hysteria

**Disclaimer:** Everything apart from the plot belongs to J. K. Rowling.

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Bellatrix wanted her Dark Lord. She wanted him with a fiery passion that burnt deep within her soul. Her mind was almost as twisted as his own, and disgusting, evil thoughts stewed in the deepest corners.

Bellatrix wasn't simply fascinated by him, she was obsessed. Her every breath revolved around him and his work of '_eradicating the world of all that was unclean._'. He was nothing less than a God in her eyes.

She would— _did_ do everything he commanded. She had murdered, tortured, thieved and burnt for him. She had suffered for years in Hell for him, and it had driven her round the bend.

Bellatrix was never happier than when she was torturing a Mudblood with the Dark Lord by her side. Seeing him smile as the filth writhed on the floor begging for mercy. It would come, eventually, but it would always be far too soon for Bellatrix.

She wanted nothing me than to be his, completely, with her heart, her soul and her entire being.

Merlin only knew how she yearned for him. She would never show it, but she wanted him.

She did not care for her husband, he was there so her family would maintain their image, not that Bellatrix would have it any other way of course. She simply wasn't interested in him. Of course, Rodolphus had provided a home and everything that Bellatrix wished for, but still it was not enough.

Her Master could never die. Even when everyone else was foolish enough to believe it, she had not.

Bellatrix had suffered for her Lord, and he made sure that he returned the favour.

She was by his side almost always, he taught her magic that others could never even _dream_ of knowing.

Bellatrix Lestrange was powerful. She was his unofficial queen, but he did not care for her, he cared for no one. She was his tool, that was all. That title had been bestowed upon her out fear and mocking that was whispered in small rooms in the middle of the night.

When she fell, Bellatrix had been shocked. Murdered by a _blood traitor_. Her Lord would be disgusted.

She fought the demons of hell as more harshly than any other before her. She would make sure that _no on_, even in death would forget the name Bellatrix Lestrange: The most loyal and cruel follower Voldemort had seen.

She was sadistic, she was evil, and in hell she was almost as cruel as Satan himself.

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Oh man, what can I say? I love the character Bellatrix. She's just a complex mind to delve into! This is the second time I've written about her, and it was just as fun as the first.


	7. Blackout

Blackout

**Disclaimer:** Seriously, if I owned anything, Tom Felton would currently be tied up in my basement forbidden to leave… It is at this point I fear I have divulged too much.

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This fate was forced upon him. It was not something he wanted.

Draco Malfoy didn't care for Voldemort any more than Potter did. In fact, he'd hoped that Potter would have killed the bastard before his father forced him to join the Death Eater ranks and the whole world went insane.

Nice going there Potter.

How was _he_, a mere child expected to take down Albus Dumbledore: The most powerful wizard since Merlin himself? It was a ridiculous notion.

Everyone who knew about this plan knew that unless the deed was complete, death was on the cards for the Malfoy's.

Perhaps that had been Voldemort's plan all along; to have the Malfoy line erased. Surely it would be a lot simpler than to deal with the shame of a Death Eater in disgrace?

This was the only chance Draco had of protecting his family, but more importantly his _mother_, whom he adored more than anyone else. He had to save her.

Who was he kidding? Even after the cursed necklace and the poisoned mead the old coot was still alive. Snape was hassling him at ever corner and Potter was beginning to become suspicious. As if that was what he needed: The Golden Boy coming in and saving the day, inadvertently earning his family an immediate death sentence.

Now there was always a sense of desperation, he needed another idea, and another, and another. Everything was piling up around him.

He also had to fix that damned vanishing cabinet. Everything was piling up around him. It was literally one thing after another. Draco felt as though he was breaking in half, as if he were drowning in all of the plans and ideas that were not even worth wasting time dwelling upon.

Draco didn't want to die. He wanted to live a long life, have a wife and children, that would never be possible if the Dark Lord succeeded. He would be stuck in his own personal hell, left crying in the bathroom like he did nearly every night.

He wanted to be taken away from it all, to some place where Voldemort never existed and he had a normal family…

Don't fool yourself kid. You haven't got a chance.

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Okay, so this obviously in Draco's sixth year, and I think this fic would take place whilst he was in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. This is quite a dark chapter, but nevertheless I hope you enjoyed it.


	8. Butterflies And Hurricanes

Butterflies And Hurricanes Ruled By Secrecy

**Di****sclaimer:** All characters and themes belong to J.K Rowling, I've just stolen them for a while.

**A/N:** I combined two songs for this fic, I felt that they would fit this particular chapter better if they were together.

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This was the final battle. Soon the war would be won, and the great Harry Potter will have fallen.

Voldemort's goal would soon be complete after so many years. He would be free to do as he wished with the world. It would all be his to mould as he saw fit.

No more Mudbloods, no more blood-traitors and no more disgusting half-breeds, he could rebuild the population as his own. The feeling was almost euphoric.

There would be up-rises, surely, but they would be all too easy to control. He would have his perfect Pureblood world.

He had forced Potter to give himself up, and when he showed up, one would die, and this time Voldemort would be sure that it was not him.

When the words "_Avada Kedavra!_" left his lips, and Harry Potter slumped to the floor in defeat he felt reborn.

It was over.

There was cheering all around from his Death Eaters, he decided then that he would give those so-called wizards the body of their fallen hero and show them just what he, Lord Voldemort was capable of.

There was silence. Nothing but silence. Then suddenly, a scream. A piercing, soul-wrenching scream. It came from his old classmate, Minerva McGonagall, she had been a Gryffindor. Surely this corpse would show her that even the mighty could fall.

Just as he had said, Harry Potter had lost everything. He was now with his disgraceful Mudblood of a mother and his blood traitor father. The though made him smile. It was something ugly and distorted. Just like him.

But, from that point on, it all went wrong and thus proved to be the Dark Lord's final downfall.

The Longbottom boy had murdered his beloved snake and Horcrux Nagini, his most devoted follower Bellatrix Lestrange fell before him, and as the others followed Potter unveiled himself.

The Dark Lord Voldemort had failed for the final time. Potter had told him stories of the spy Snape and how he had loved his mother, trying to save her; how all of his Horcruxes were gone; how the Elder Wand was not his and how he should feel _remorse_.

Voldemort was disgusted by Potter's attempts, laughing insanely at the lies told to him. He would refuse to believe such rubbish.

He would never believe that _love _was man's most powerful weapon. It was an old fools dream.

And therefore, he died.

He heard "_Expelliarmus!_" screamed from Potter's mouth, and then, he went still. In death, he felt nothing. Nothing but disbelief and horror.

The immortal was immortal no more.

Tom Riddle had fallen, and Albus Dumbledore had been right. Now he was stuck between two world that were not his own.

Yes, he had shown them that even the might could fall. Just not in the way he had intended.

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Meh, I'm not ecstatic about this chapter, but it'll do. I sort of had to force myself to write this chapter, so hopefully it doesn't suck too much.


	9. Endlessly

Endlessly

**Disclaimer:** I still own nothing… Oh J.K., if I only I could be you.

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Andromeda Tonks was always hiding a part of herself.

She knew that the idea was silly, but she had to protect herself from the Black within, both literally and figuratively. If her heritage was anything to go by, she was going to end up as a muggle-hating extremist.

The only problem was, Andromeda didn't want that. In fact, she was in love with a muggle named Ted.

Oh, Ted. At the very mention of his name her heart beat faster in her chest. He had been pursuing her since fifth year. He was such a charming lad, and relentless too. No matter how many times she had refused him he just kept coming back. It was so hard to maintain her image when he was following her around like a puppy, but secretly Andromeda adored it.

Eventually she had agreed to go out with him, (in secret of course) and found that she actually liked him a lot. He was so funny, he had made his food dance across the plate magically, making her laugh like she never had before.

Over the various holidays Andromeda and Ted would always keep in contact via owl post, never revealing anything to anyone except her cousin Sirius, who was utterly thrilled that there was another member of the Black family that dared break the perfect Pureblood mould.

Whenever she voiced her fears to Ted, he would always reassure her that he would keep her safe no matter what.

Perhaps it was just a hopeless dream that they could be together happily. Maybe Ted would one day stop replying to her letters and mysteriously disappear. Andromeda knew what her family was capable of, and it scared her. But how was she supposed to just stop loving someone?

She couldn't. It was impossible.

Andromeda knew she had to keep this love alive at all costs. It would show the world that she was not just another ignorant Slytherin, but a woman with real feelings and emotions. Being a Black was only a fact she didn't care for.

She knew that she wanted to marry Ted, he was perfect for her in every way. Andromeda would spent most of her time in class, daydreaming about where she would be, ten years from then. She imagined little brown-haired, blue-eyed children running around in a garden in front of an idealistic house. She knew it was cliché, but it was such a lovely thought.

No, she would not let her family stop her chance at happiness. She did not want to become one of the dolls that men held upon their shoulders, who did nothing more than provide heirs and sit in a mansion gossiping with other airhead wives. The very thought disgusted her to her core.

Even if it meant that she would end up penniless and in disgrace, she would not give up on love.

Andromeda swore she would love Ted until the end..

And she did.

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For some reason I always liked Andromeda, but this is the first time I've actually written about her and I hope to do it again in the future, as this was a fun piece for me to write. :D


	10. Thoughts Of A Dying Atheist

Thoughts Of A Dying Atheist

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing! It all belongs to J.K. Rowling, the woman richer than the entire British empire.

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Sirius Black saw ghosts.

Not like the ones that you would see floating around Hogwarts quite normally, but ghosts of his past. Ghosts of the people he had loved. Ghosts of people who had left him long ago. Sirius felt as though they were always with him, watching him. Waiting for him to be returned to them.

Was he afraid of death? He felt as though he had come close enough to it during his years in Azkaban, but that didn't necessarily mean that he didn't, he felt that he was more concerned with what happened _after_ death.

He dreaded the thought of hell, or worse; nothingness. How could it be possible that one minute you were alive, thinking and feeling and then in the next, there was only an abyss of emptiness.

Sirius had to believe, for James and Lily's sake. He thought of their son, Harry. Surely they would be looking out for him. Never before had he seen such devoted parents. Of course, he didn't really know any other parents, and his had hardly been the type you called 'loving', but that was beside the point.

All he wanted was to be free of this oppression and see _any _familiar face. He had already given up Harry once, and he would make sure that when he got out of this pit he would find him again.

Hagrid had mentioned something about Lily's sister, hadn't he? He had to at least _try_.

But these days it was so difficult to transform into his Animagus form, and as far as he saw that would be his only chance of getting out of here.

Sirius refused to let his memories be taken from him, they were all he had. Even if he _did_manage to escape there would only be one chance at being accepted back into society: To find Peter Pettigrew. Oh, how he longed to wring that traitors fat little neck!

Wormtail would pay. Sirius would make sure of that.

It was—despite his families nature not like Sirius to become filled with hatred and plot revenge, but he was still a Black, and that meant that at least _some_of his families traits were passed onto him. He may not have been a Slytherin, but Sirius had always been sly and cunning. He would surely think of something appropriate for Pettigrew.

_Merlin, that sounded so grim_, Sirius thought.

He didn't want to be like his parents, or his cousins. He despised the lot of them. (apart from Andromeda of course)

Sirius could feel himself growing weaker and weaker by the day. It was maddening. When the Minister of Magic visited he had expected nothing unusual.

That all changed when he saw that article in the Daily Prophet.

This was his only chance. He had to make it. For James, for Lily, for all of them.

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Alas! It's all over. This entire story has meant a lot to me, as I proved to myself that I can write, even if I don't feel epically inspired at all moments.

I hope you enjoyed it, and to those who reviewed; thank you.


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